Joker: The Beginning
by Young Justice Freakshow
Summary: A little snippet from Joker's early life. Please read if you enjoys twisted things and slight gore! And please review.


I sat in the dirt outside, in my back yard. I had enough time to be outside for a few minutes before mom and Stephen get home. They went to some "library opening".

I picked up a stick beside me and started drawing in the dirt.

Stephen thinks mom is going because she's actually interested. But really, she just wants to see Thomas Wayne. I hate him. I hate his wife. But most of all, I hate his son.

I drew I a crude stick figure into the dirt.

Bruce Wayne.

I draw a stick figure of myself beside the stick figure, which I had made look like Bruce Wayne. I drew a knife in my hand as I swept some of my blonde hair out of my face. I grasped the stick harder and started stabbing the Bruce Wayne stick figure. Small pieces of dirt flew from the spot, splattering like real blood.

I heard a meow behind me and I turned around. There was a stray cat sauntering behind me. It was real skinny. I smirked and stood up. Dirt felt off my knees as I walked over to the cat. It was black and gray, with bright blue eyes.

It looked at me and meowed, as if expecting, hoping to be fed. Like it could find a meal here. This was Gotham. No one can even feed themselves. The only reason my horse of a mother isn't a fat hog.

I walked over to that cat and quickly grabbed it by the neck before it could run away. I picked it up and readied my stick. I started stabbing the cat, drinking in its screams and the sound the stick made when it sunk into the cat's body. There wasn't as much blood as you would think. It dripped on me and the cat and was covering the stick.

"Oh lord help us!"

I turned around. Some old hag was standing on the sidewalk, looking at me.

"Demons, leave this boy!" She shrieked. "Leave this boy!"

"Shut up you old woman." I said loud enough for her to hear and dropped the dead cat and stick. I ran to the front of my house and ran inside. There was a birthday card from my teacher on the counter. I turned nine yesterday, and only my teacher cares. Mom was at the library opening and Stephen was out getting drunk. I don't know why she would marry him. He's a waste of a man. All he does is beat me and fuck mom. He doesn't even provide.

I grabbed some bread out of the bread box and ran up to my room.

My room is cold. The old blue door creeks as I close it. My room is decorated with pictures of clowns, clown posters, and joker cards.

I've always liked clowns. They always seem happy. They always mask their emotions. They're just freaks. Like me. You never know what they're thinking, they show only one emotion. Glee. Taking joy in everything they do.

"Jack!" Stephen yells from down stairs.

Great, was does he want? I finish my bread and run downstairs.

Stephen is standing in the kitchen. He was filthy, and definitely drunk.

"You know what happened today? Just a few hours ago?" He asks me, sneering. "Them Waynes wasn't at the opening. They was murdered."

I didn't say anything, but I smiled.

"Why you smiling, boy?" Stephen asked.

"Now we won't have to live under their influence." I say quietly. "Their litter."

"Your mother worked for them," Stephen said and drank some of his beer. "Now what's she gonna do?"

I shrugged.

"Why you little brat!" Stephen said and threw the bottle of beer at me. Blood dripped down my cheek and mixed with some of the cat blood.

Stephen came over and grabbed my by my throat and threw me against the wall. I yelped as I hit the floor. Stephen came over and started kicking me in the ribs.

"I hate you." Stephen said and opened the drawer under the sink. "You see this?" He asked as he pulled out a small pistol. "Could kill you if I wanted to."

Coward. That's the easy way out. Knives are better. That way you can see the last emotions the person thinks before they die. Things just happen too fast if you use a gun.

"But I can't kill you." Stephen said and out the gun back. "I'm smarter than that."

Barely.

"What's wrong, Jack?" Stephen asked. "Why so serious? Just have a little fun with me, will ya?"

I was glaring at him. Maybe that's what he was talking about.

He opened another drawer and pulled out a knife. "You should really smile more."

What's the idiot doing? He kneels in front of me and grabs my face, shoving the knife in my mouth. It nicks my tongue and blood fills my mouth.

"Lets put a smile on that face!" He says, putting the knife against my inner cheek.

"Lets put a smile on that face!" He shouts and cuts my face open. I shut my eyes, but I don't feel anything where my cheek was. I'll feel it later. He cut me. He's scarred me. He'll pay.

I grab the knife and stand up as blood falls from my cheek and onto my clothes and aim the knife at Stephen.

"W-Whoa..." Stephen says quietly and falls backwards. "Hold on there, Jack." He says.

I lunged at him. I couldn't see where I was stabbing him. I felt him convulse though. It was fun. I should do this more often.

I don't look back and I run to the door. I'm leaving. Ill become my own person. Make my own reality. Everyone will know my name. Fear my name. They'll cringe at the sight of me. They wont know what created me. Why I chose to be what I'll be.

I run out the door and run down the road. I'll use the same games the clowns and jokers use. Riddles and songs and jokes. I'll have no mercy. They'll know me by one thing, and one thing only.

The Joker.


End file.
